


Helen and Seamus 4 Ever

by cinemariel



Category: Charlie's Angels (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Is it pretending when you really like it?, Porn With Plot, Pretending to be bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinemariel/pseuds/cinemariel
Summary: Dylan seeks out Seamus after the warehouse fight. If she's going to protect her friends she's going to need to convince Seamus she's not who he thinks she is. But what if she convinces him too well?





	Helen and Seamus 4 Ever

_“I’m gonna teach you and your friends about pain. I’m gonna kill them just so you can hear them scream.”_

His world’s swirled around her head. She couldn’t sleep that night. Her girls weren’t safe. Alex and Nat, her fellow angels. They’d all been in danger before, but never danger that Dylan had put them in. They didn’t ask for this, to be saddled with someone like her. 

_“I’ve waited for you before. Matter of fact, I waited for you for two thousand nine hundred and twenty days. That’s four hundred and seventeen weeks. That’s 96 months. That’s eight years. Enough about me. What about you, Helen? How have you been?”_

Seamus had called her Helen and it made her ears ring. Hearing that name in that voice knocked the wind out of her. It made her a teenager again for just a second. It took her back the that night, she’d never felt more safe, more alive and then he shot that man and her perfect moment curdled like spoiled milk. 

Seamus was the reason she had to leave behind her life, the reason she had a black belt before she could rent a car, the reason she had a panic room in her apartment. And now he was out of prison and clearly gunning for her. She had to stop him. 

She found him at the local Irish pub—which would be laughable if she wasn’t scared shitless about confronting him. She’d come in a tight black dress, a boxy denim jacket, and a platinum blonde wig. She reflexively scanned the room for threats and found approximately two dozen. Shockingly, Seamus wasn’t exactly hanging out at the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. 

_“I see you still got a nice arse on you.”_

Just remembering his words covered her skin with goose bumps. If someone were watching closely, they would have seen her visibly shiver. That was the thing about Seamus. He was her first and not just her first bad guy. No matter how hard she tried to rid herself of him… he was there. 

She caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye across the bar. He was surrounded by a small group of friends. Were things to go south, she’d start with the guy on the left who looked like was nursing a sprained wrist. But Dylan wasn’t planning on things going south. She stalked over to the bar. Ordered his favorite drink and deliberately didn’t face him. If he liked her ass so much, she was betting he’d be over here soon enough. 

_“I’ve got to say Helen, I’ve never wanted you more.”_

A round of drinks for Seamus’s crew later, Dylan was still jittery. She thought half a pint of Guinness would calm her nerves. And if not that, assessing the area for threats and deciding whose weapons were easily steal-able. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe she would be better off with Alex and Nat. 

_“I’ll have you any way I want.”_

But before she could turn around to leave she felt breath on her neck and a long, lean body pressed up against hers. 

“Where are your friends, Helen?” he growled in her ear, snaking an arm around her and grabbing her beer. 

She could still run. There was no need to stick to her plan—which was seeming dumber and dumber by the second. Coming into a bar full of criminals, at least one of which wanted to kill her, without any backup… what was she thinking? 

“Probably collecting a girl scout badge or two,” she turned to face him. 

“You changed your hair,” he said it casually. Well, casually for Seamus, so burning with a white, hot intensity that made blood rise to Dylan’s cheeks. 

“You noticed,” she mocked, shifting her eyes downwards, faux demurely. She moved slowly, proving she wasn’t a threat, and took her beer back from Seamus. She drained it. Needing the courage and the warmth that spread through her. She also made a show of licking the foam off her lips, knowing that it was never a bad idea to remind him of all the other places her tongue had been. 

“You here to chat me up?” his eyes flickered back and forth from her mouth to her eyes. 

“I’m actually here to knock your teeth out for almost ruining my cover,” she glared at him, doing her best to seem only angry instead of angry and scared. 

Seamus’s brow furrowed. He smoothed it, trying not to look confused but she’d clearly caught him. It was time to tell a story she hoped to god he’d believe. 

“Wait,” she laughed, opening her legs up so he’d subconsciously close the gap in between them. “Two thousand and whatever days in the big house and you never guessed?” 

“You know I’m getting tired of listening to you play coy,” he pressed up against her, trying to intimidate her but she had him right where she wanted. So she slid her hands up his chest and let her fingers card through his hair. 

“Let me spell it out for you,” their noses were almost touching and that pint of Guinness was starting to round the world’s edges. “Those girls you found me with. I’m working them. And I’d prefer if you didn’t screw it up.”

Seamus shook his head, he didn’t buy it. She was going to have to give him the hard sell. She drew closer and rocked her hips into his…

“Seamus,” she gave him a little pout, hoping to draw his attention to her lower lip—the one he used to like to bite during their make out sessions. “All this time and you didn’t put it together? You really thought you got taken out by a moonfaced girl who lost her virginity to you in the back of her mom’s car?” 

Of course, she was lying. Seamus had been her first. And everyone knows you never forget your first. And usually when they say “you” they’re not referring to someone who’s first was a murderous psychopath that put them on the path to fighting crime so… yeah. Dylan remembered. 

Dylan remembered the heat of it, the urgency, the way she’d sit in homeroom or lay in her bed watching the clock… just counting down the seconds until she could be close to him. How every moment of their relationship was an exploration of closeness. How much could they invade each other’s space. And now with their chests flush and his breath tickling her cheeks, she was getting serious deja vu. 

“Think about it,” she urged, wetting her lips with her tongue. “At what point when we were together did I seem like a good girl?”

“Good or bad, I spent eight years—“ 

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” she cut him off, enjoying the annoyance that spread across his face. “Sounds rough. But that’s business. You were working for the O’Grady’s and I worked for the highest bidder. Still do.”

This time he couldn’t conceal his shock. His fingers fluttered at the nape of her neck, an intimate gesture for most, but not if he was about to grab her by it and drive her face into the bar. Despite her desire to remain calm, she held her breath.

“You played me, Helen. You were faking it the whole time.” 

“Well,” Dylan said both because it was true and because it suited her purposes. “I didn’t fake _everything_.” 

A slow smirk spread across his face and Dylan felt a tingling heat spread from her chest and out to her fingertips and toes. 

Seamus was her first bad guy. She’d blamed him for the way her other relationships went… of course sex with other guys wasn’t as good. She couldn’t be vulnerable, she was scared of being hurt again, her frame of reference was now totally warped. But some nights… when she’d wake up in the middle of the night with her sheets drenched and Seamus’s name on her lips… she wondered if it wasn’t that Seamus had ruined her for other men because he was bad… but because he was so very, very good. 

His face charged at hers, so fast that for a second she thought it might be a head butt. His mouth crashed into hers and he took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down so hard it drew blood. And while other girls might wince in pain, she sighed into his mouth. She was putty in his arms. A voice in her head reminded her that she came here with a mission. But a louder voice reminded her that her mission was to make him believe her. 

What they were doing wasn’t pretty, they were a clash of lips and teeth and tongues, the last time they’d made out they were teenagers. Clusters of heat and hormones. And right now didn’t feel very different. They were dry humping against a bar, literally moaning into each other’s mouths. It wasn’t really a thing grown ups were supposed to do. That thought made her want to giggle. They were grown ups. 

He pulled his lips away from hers, breaking their kiss. 

“If what you say is true,” he growled against the shell of her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “You owe me a debt.”

“And how exactly do you want me to repay you?” 

\---

There was a room upstairs, because of course there was. And it was, of course, open to Seamus O’Grady. He lead her there, his hand on the small of her back. A hand that was creeping lower and lower every second. 

Once the door shut behind the owner, leaving them alone, his hands were inside her jacket and he was pushing her towards the bed. He tasted like beer and he smelled exactly like she remembered. She felt the back of her knees hit the mattress and she fell backwards, panting as she relaxed against the surprisingly soft bed. 

But the warmth of Seamus’s body didn’t follow her. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked up at him. 

“Did you find Jesus in the clink or something?” she tried to keep the desire out of her voice, knowing that seeming cool and disaffected would sell her story better. 

“Strip,” he ordered. “I want to make sure you’re unarmed.” 

“Are you unarmed?” she fired back. 

“You’re the one making things up to me, aren’t you?” his voice was hard but something softer flickered in his eyes for a second. Despite being a murderous crime boss, he was actually scared of getting hurt again. Which meant he was exactly where she wanted him. 

She stood up and slid off her jacket, feeling cold now that he wasn’t pressed up against her. She pulled her wig off, letting her hair fall loosely around her shoulders. She stepped out of her heels, feeling vulnerable without her stilettos. 

“Unzip me?” she asked, turning around and presenting her backside to him. 

She heard him approach her from behind, his boots making the floorboards creak. She felt like an electrical current was pulsing through her skin. Waiting for the feeling of his hands on her bare skin made her feel like she was in history class watching the clock again. 

Rather than unzip her dress, he ran his hands along her arms, her back, her stomach, her chest, it took her longer than she’d like to admit for her to realize he was patting her down, looking for a weapon. 

“Find anything you like?” she asked. 

Seamus exhaled a laugh behind her and Dylan found herself wishing she could see his face. He unzipped her dress, leaning forward to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. She felt her cheeks flush with the intimacy of the gesture. 

He peeled her dress off like the second skin it was, leaving her in just her bra and underwear. He turned her around to face him and captured her mouth with his. The metal snaps on his shirt were cold against her bare skin and the rough denim of his jeans rubbed against her thighs. There were far too many clothes between her and him. 

Almost like he read her mind, he pulled his shirt over his head while she set to work on getting his pants off. 

“Helen,” his voice was husky and his eyes were boring into her. No part of her wanted to correct him and say she was Dylan now. Tonight, she’d be Helen again. 

His pants hit the floor and she pulled him down onto the bed with her. She spread her legs and wrapped them around his waist. She squeezed him between her thighs like a boa constrictor. There was still too much space between them. She needed him closer, she needed him inside.


End file.
